


look him in the eye

by echochamberz



Category: Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, Don't Like Don't Read, Gun Kink, M/M, Mind Control, Trans Male Character, both leon and wesker are trans, brief mention of gore, it's gross shit idk, sorta kinda it's weird plagas control power, trans porn written by trans author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:30:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22152943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echochamberz/pseuds/echochamberz
Summary: wesker has fun with his prey
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Albert Wesker
Comments: 5
Kudos: 86





	look him in the eye

**Author's Note:**

> there's a mix use of clit/dick/cunt/etc in this fic so be warned  
shout out to the fellow leon fuckers in our discord servers u guys continue to inspire me i appreciate it  
title from exxus by glass animals

Eyes watch with a cold disinterest. The sight before him is pitiful. As the plagas continues to grow inside Leon, it reduces him to this squirming mess on the floor. Saliva and blood drip from his mouth as he pants, clearly in pain by the way he holds his chest. It would be much easier to simply put the agent out of his misery. His interferences are definitely becoming a nuisance, especially with Ada continuing to have a soft spot for him. If she wasn’t such a useful asset he might’ve rid himself of her as well.

Still... it’s possible the plagas has grown enough to finally have control over Leon. The red of his eyes are vibrant, glistening just like the blood on his chin. He steps closer and roughly pushes Leon over onto his back.

A whimper leaves Leon’s lips and he can’t even hold himself up. Then he coughs, more blood sputtering from his lips. It’s a pretty color against the paleness of his skin.

“Look at me,” Wesker demands.

There’s only a small delay before Leon opens his eyes to stare up at him. It sends a shiver up his spine. Wesker feels a surge of power run through him and it brings a twisted smile to his face. He kicks Leon’s legs apart and places his foot against his crotch. No pressure is applied, simply resting against it. “I think I’m going to have fun with you.”

As his foot presses harder against Leon, he’s aware of the lack of bulge beneath his heel. There’s no swell of a cock or quickening pulse; Wesker stands with his foot flat to the pelvis. The smile on his face only seems to grow wider.

What an interesting development.

He leans down, putting more force against Leon, and cups his chin, mockingly, like a tender lover would. Seeing those red eyes up close is so satisfying. No matter how much Leon tries to struggle he’s nothing but a slave to the plagas. Whether or not it lasts the whole length of their little game is hardly important. He can get the most out of now, he thinks, as he brushes his thumb over Leon’s bottom lip.

Wesker drags his foot down, pressing the steel toes of his boot to where the start of Leon’s cunt would be. It’s warm between his thighs. No doubt the increased body temperature is a mix of the parasite as well as the arousal that must be rising in Leon. The way he moans quietly, as if he’s afraid to make a sound, is so adorable.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Wesker asks, tone mocking, “Is my boot not enough for you?”

“Fuck you,” Leon says straining. His eyes narrow and with as much force as he can musher, he spits in Wesker’s face.

Oh so there is some spitfire still in the boy. Good. That would make this game too boring otherwise. As much as he loves winning, it there’s no opposition, no pull and tug, there’s no fun breaking Leon when he’s too pliant. Though, the knowing flicker in his eyes that says he’s at Wesker’s mercy is just as appetizing.

He wipes away the spit, then, without warning, he backhands Leon. It sends him toppling over, face hitting the dirty tile with a grunt. “It’s clear someone hasn’t taught you bedside manners, boy,” Wesker doesn’t let Leon rise, pressing his foot down on his back, pinning him there. “I wouldn’t advise making me lose my patience.”

The dark threat of his voice makes Leon stiffen. He moves his head just enough to stare up at Wesker with those red eyes. He’s still defiant, breaking through some of the plagas’ power. It’s not enough however. With the trickle of blood from Leon’s nose and the still prominent red of his irises, it’s clear he hasn’t freed himself yet. Wesker still has time.

He kicks Leon back over, forcing him to look up at him as he stands above him, legs on each side of his waist, pinning him. The sound of his zipper being undone is incredibly loud. Wesker slides his pants down only enough to show the beginning of blond hair. “I think it’s about time we put that mouth of yours to better use. Suck.”

There’s still hesitation in Leon’s system, leaning on his elbows to stare up, shock washing across his face. It’s a good look on him but Wesker would rather have it a different way. He nudges the other roughly as if to tell him to get on with it. His patience is hardly wearing thin but he likes to instill some panic if it makes him seem that way. This is the least of what worse things Wesker can do to Leon.

The plagas are incredibly resilient. How would Leon feel if he broke some bones and cut open his skin, only for them to heal at a much faster rate than humanly possible? He’d spread him out over a table and pick him apart like a frog in science class. Maybe he’ll pin the skin open long enough for him to cum all over his organs. Then he’ll sew him right back up, leaving him unable to clean away Wesker’s mark on him.

Hands on his waist pull him from his fantasy. Leon is trembling as he fights, not wanting to go through with the command, but it’s a fruitless attempt. The way his mouth falls open is so alluring. Wesker can’t help brushing away Leon’s bangs to get a better look. “That’s a good boy,” He says sweetly, “don’t fight it.”

Once his underwear is down to his thighs, Leon presses forward, burying his nose to Wesker’s crotch. He holds back a sound of pleasure as the wet warmth of Leon’s mouth closes over his clit.

The inexperience is endearing.

The plagas-controlled enthusiasm makes up for it as Leon grips his hips a little tighter, pushing against him. It’s a sloppy, wet mess as he sucks and licks like a starving dog, hungry for any scraps he can get. Unless it’s fear that drives some of his actions... If he pleases Wesker enough, he might only walk away with just this. It’s a naive thought. He’s not about to let go of his pet just yet as their game still continues.

“Now, now,” Wesker says, groaning lightly as he pulls Leon’s head back slightly. His chin is covered with spit and slick, clinging to his skin in globs. His cheeks are red as he pants, tears rolling over them as he quietly cries, not making a single peep. The color of his eyes are beginning to fade back into that lovely blue, leaving it a pleasant shade of purple instead; he’s still conscious enough to know what’s going on but powerless to stop it. “There’s no need to rush. We’re just getting started”

He pushes his foot down on Leon’s chest, making him lie back against the cold tile. “You’re a sick fucker, you know that?” Leon says, voice wavering. “You’re not gonna get away with this.”

A laugh rumbles in Wesker’s chest as he fixes his pants. He doesn’t voice it, but he knows he already has; every piece has been set in motion that even if Saddler fails there’s still all the progress from the plagas to go from. Leon is just another experiment for him to examine and if he’s enjoying himself, working to break the agents resolve, then it’s an added bonus. He won’t lose much otherwise.

“Quiet,” Wesker commands, not raising his voice but still demanding as he pushes his foot harder against his chest.

His attention shifts from Leon to his jacket as he pulls a revolver from the pocket. Welcoming the familiar weight in his hands, Wesker clicks the safety off and raises it enough to examine the weapon. The plan already forming in his head brings a smug look to his face. “It’s a shame I wasn’t prepared for this chance encounter, Kennedy, I might’ve come fully prepared. But this will do the job just nicely.”

Wesker resumes his previous stance with his feet at Leon’s side. Wordlessly, he points the gun to his face, watching as eyes widen, shiny from the tears. Realization sets in quickly and it’s a good look; as if he’s begging silently for all of this to stop. It won’t. Not until Wesker has his fun. He motions idly at him to beckon him up closer to the barrel.

The implications are clear. If he chooses not to take what’s being offered then that falls on him. Any pain is his own doing since Wesker could fuck Leon dry and not care. There’s nothing that’s truly stopping him from ripping away the opportunity right now but it’s much more satisfying to see those pink lips wrap around the gun. Leon’s fighting it by the way his face scrunches up. Even his teeth click against the cold metal as he bobs his head quickly. It’s just as messy as eating Wesker out and there’s only a minuscule amount of gratefulness that he doesn’t have a dick to get caught in those teeth. But, it’s all the more reasons he wants one just to grab Leon’s head and fuck that mouth of his ruthlessly, not letting him breath or get used to it, using him like a cheap toy. “Go on, get it nice and wet.”

Once Wesker’s satisfied with the effort, he pulls it out roughly. There’s some blood from earlier glistening with saliva. A sick part of him wants to lick it: to taste the mix of blood and saliva and no doubt himself on the weapon. Perhaps another time he’ll indulge in it.

Wesker crouches down to roughly grab Leon’s pants, shoving them down to his ankles. They catch on his shoes but instead of fighting it he pushes Leon’s legs apart as wide as they can go, revealing the pink, wet skin of his cunt. Slowly, he drags the gun between the lips, chuckling darkly. “Someone’s happy to see me,” He jokes, pushing the muzzle to his dick as it stands erect, twitching against the warm touch. “Beautiful.”

“Please,” Leon says, voice quiet and broken. “Please don’t do this.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

It’s not sympathy that makes Wesker press in slowly. His eyes lock onto Leon as the boy’s face scrunches, eyes clench shut and makes another stray tear slide down his cheek. The barrel of the revolver pales in comparison to an actual cock but no doubt the intrusion is unwelcomed. Its cold metal makes Leon’s hips jerk but Wesker keeps him in place with his free hand. He continues to push in further and further until the cylinder presses to the entrance. There’s only a miniscule amount of mercy in Wesker so he doesn’t go any further, leaving the near 4 inches of the barrel inside Leon.

He leans down to press a kiss to his hip. Continuing to mock his prey, he acts as if they were sharing an intimate moment somewhere safe and warm instead of the middle of Europe in some run down house. “See? That wasn’t so bad,” Wesker says, cooing with each kiss that moves down to where his gun resides inside Leon, “You took it so well.”

His tongue flicks over Leon’s clit as his own red eyes peek out from beneath his shades. The sight is perfect and Wesker wishes he could take a picture of it. No doubt this is a memory he’ll come to reminisce when given a rare moment to rest. So he savors it while he can, staring deep into the purple eyes until the prolonged contact makes Leon squirm.

Their fun will come to an end eventually. Until then, however, Wesker begins to thrust the gun in and out. The pace set isn’t brutal but still enough to pull noises from Leon’s lips. Moving up to mark his neck adds to the mix which Wesker feels each moan and stuttered breath beneath his lips.

His teeth sink into the flesh hard enough to break skin. Hungrily, he laps at the blood bubbling from the open wound. Nothing will taste as heavenly as this.

Hands claw into his black jacket. There’s enough force behind them to pull Wesker away from Leon’s neck. It’s strong but he refuses to falter. Instead, he turns his attention back down to the gun fucking Leon. Nails dig in when everything shifts to a rough and unforgiving pace.

Yet, despite the broken gasps for Wesker to stop, he’s still moaning like a whore. At the end of the day Leon is still a human weak to his instincts. The muzzle presses against the bundle of nerves inside him and brings release closer with each thrust in. His body chases it, pushing back into Wesker’s hand, desperate to be filled.

Wesker pulls the trigger.

Leon clenches hard and comes with a hoarse cry, head slamming back against the wood floor.

The gun merely clicks from an empty barrel. With a dark chuckle, he pulls it from Leon’s abused cunt and cleans it off on his shirt. He pretends to examine it before sliding it back into his holster. Nothing will be more amusing than knowing just how much the threat of his life is a turn on.

He stands up to admire the view; blue eyes have fully returned as the boy attempts to catch his breath. Wesker soaks it up. Seeing his marks across Leon’s body is incredibly satisfying. Any attempts to hide them would be useless considering their placement. It’s only fitting to add more insult to injury.

Euros are thrown lazily across Leon’s stomach. He knows that annoying Ganado has been selling shit to Leon. While it would be easier to kill the damn merchant, he wants to see just how far the agent will get. Maybe he’ll make it easier and get rid of Saddler for him instead.

He then turns with a wave of his hand, walking out of the building, “Thanks for the fun.”


End file.
